Me vs P.E.

I took my kids to the Y last week. That counts as P.E., right? Like, for the whole year...?

Yes, part of me is being flippant because I kind of totally hate everything about P.E., but part of me is genuinely just unsure about the best ways to get physical education worked into a home school environment. (But, let's be honest, it's mostly the flippant part.)

I dreaded P.E. when I was a kid. Not just like, 'shucks, it's another P.E. day' kind of dread. I mean, sick-to-my-stomach, fingernail-biting, fake-my-own-alien-abduction-to-get-out-of-it kind of dread.

I'm not athletic. I'm not coordinated. I don't look cute in gym shorts. And (here's the important part) I don't care about sports. Never have. Probably never will.

For some reason, the latter is just not ok in schools. I don't understand that.

Kids are allowed to malign math, bad-mouth biology, and roll their eyes at reading. But, say you don't like P.E. and sports, and they're sending you to the counselor's office for evaluations. (Seriously. That happens.)

I vividly remember being yelled at for not being able to hit the ball during some endless, tedious game of something-or-other when I was in high school. The teacher stood idly by as my classmates screamed and hollered, "C'mon! You're killing us here!  Hit the ball already! What's the matter with you!?"

Um... isn't P.E. supposed to be (at least in part) about teaching good sportsmanship? And how to have fun while being physically fit? And teamwork? And all that jazz?

I wasn't feeling all that jazz.

Eventually the P.E. teacher mustered up a teaspoon of compassion (I'm not sure if it was for me or the others on my team) and let me walk. It was a relief for everyone, and probably the highlight of the game for me. The sad part is, that's what it was like every time I stepped foot into the gym. For a brains-not-brawn kid in school, P.E. may be the ultimate source of insult, but it's far from the only one.

Think about it - even though the stated purpose of school is education (and, NOT primarily of the physical kind), there still exists an imbalanced emphasis on sports. I mean, plenty of my peers really stunk at giving speeches (something they dreaded as much I dreaded P.E.). Yet, it would have been totally and completely unacceptable for me to have hollered at them, "C'mon! You're killing us here! Spit it out, already! What's the matter with you!?" in 9th grade language arts.

(Trust me - I wanted too, though.)

Anyway, I'm ranting because:
1.) I still, clearly, have unresolved issues from when I was a teenager. (Then again, don't we all?)
2.) isn't that what blogs are for - a sort of poor man's therapy?
3.) I really do want my kids to not hate physical fitness and sports like I do, and I don't know how to make that happen.

So - this is where it's your turn to talk. (Unless you're going to yell at me for not loving sports.)

What is (or, should be) the actual purpose of P.E.?
What are the most important things that kids should learn from it?
How do you make that happen in a home school environment?
Is there any hope for me making a recovery from my P.E. P.T.S.D?

Hope you have some answers for me, 'cause you're up to bat, and I'm depending on you to hit this one out of the park!

Starts and Finishes

Well, I've gone and done it again... started something, and then not finished it. In this case, I guess you could say I've done it again, twice. Once with this blog (for which I had such high hopes before I suddenly and completely abandoned it), and once with home schooling.

You see, this year we had our last first day of home schooling. At least, for a while. Next year our whole family (ma, pa, and the younguns) will be packing up and moving to Guatemala to do mission work. My husband will be helping at a Bible College, and I will be volunteering as a teacher at a Christian school. Our daughters will attend there as well.

Right now, I'm feeling pretty full. You see, I've had to eat a lot of crow (as the expression goes), and plenty of my own words. Yep - our new school will follow Common Core, use standardized testing three times per year, and follow the regular track that public schools use. Oy... God has a great sense of humor, doesn't He!? :)

I can't say that I'm totally convinced some of those things are what's absolutely best academically for each my own children, but I am totally convinced that God is smarter, bigger, and wiser than I'll ever be. And, if He says this the right path, then He's probably right. And by 'probably' I mean 'totally.'

So, we're doing our very best to squeeze every last ounce of home schooling fun out of our last year as home schoolers (i.e. - we still start late, school in our pajamas, and embrace flexibility at every turn). But, we are also trying to prepare for the educational experiences that are just around the corner, as well (switching to a public school curriculum in some areas, being more standards based, and doing testing twice a year). 

Here's to a year of starts and finishes - sometimes with both being present in the same moment. I'm hoping to start doing better about keeping this blog up. You know, before we finish being able to write credibly about home schooling. <sigh> Starts and finishes.... What a year it's going to be! :)

Pre-Test Jitters

You'll have to excuse me. I'm feeling a bit nervous. Test anxiety, you see. My palms are sweating. I've got butterflies in my stomach, and I know I'm not going to be able to sleep tonight. I don't know how I'm going to make it - the test isn't until Monday! All these nerves over a simple exam!? Oh, did I mention that it is my daughter taking the test? Makes more sense now, doesn't it?

I always liked standardized tests when I was a kid in school. I positively glowed during Iowa Test of Basic Skills week. I liked tests so much that I took my ACT's three times - just for the fun of it! Strange, huh? But this time around, it's a whole different story. This time I feel like I'm the one being tested again, only in a much more personal, and much less fair, way.

Up to this point, the home schooling laws in our state and our educational preferences have never required any of our children to take a standardized test. Because we have never been beholden to typical standards and benchmarks, we've never followed typical standards and benchmarks.  It's allowed us to blaze our own trail. To follow our own rhythms and schedules. To do our own thing.

I like our own thing.

Now, though, we're suddenly, kinda, sorta trying to do someone else's thing. At least, Monday through Friday mornings of next week, we are. (And, by 'we', I mean my oldest daughter. And, vicariously through her, me as well.) I knew the day would come when she would want to (perhaps, even, benefit from) checking in with the rest of the educational world to see if we were even close to on the same page. But, it's uncomfortable, nonetheless.

I have no doubt that my daughter is brilliant. I have no doubt that I am a good teacher for her. (Okay - that last one was a lie. I get bombarded by doubts about that every 3.86 seconds. Twice that often on Tuesdays. But, I digress...) I don't like the idea that this one test might have the capacity to make my daughter doubt her brilliance, or make me further doubt my qualifications to be her teacher, especially since that's not what it's designed to do.

Our test just happens to be the Iowa Assessment. It was created as a means to assess how any given student scores on a finite subset of questions, from five different categories, in relation to how other students (in the state, and the nation), who are the same age and grade, answer those same questions from those same five different categories. Simple, huh?

In a nutshell, tests like these are merely a way of pointing fingers and saying, "Johnny is better at these language arts questions than Jimmy is." I get it. There is a place for such information. It can help pinpoint weaknesses and strengths, show long-term trends among student populations, and gives teachers a break from planning for the week that the test is administered. (I wasn't being cynical about that last one, by the way. I understand how hard teachers work. I'm sure the rest during test week is very welcomed and deserved.)

But, I think too many people place too much stock in such tests, at the detriment of students, parents, teachers, and educational institutions. I hope my daughter does well on these tests, of course, but only because she's worked hard to prepare, and I know that being able to get high scores on standardized tests will help her in the future. If she doesn't do so well, though, that's okay, too.

I'm not going to let a silly score shake my confidence. I am not going to let it make me go into a tailspin involving purchasing all new curriculum, implementing a whole new schedule, and/or looking into transferring our kids to public, private, or intensive boarding school. I am not going to freak out. I am not going to freak out. I am not going to freak out...

Seriously, though - I'm really not going to freak out if my daughter gets a mediocre test score. And neither should my daughter. And neither should you. You know why? These tests really are all about comparison and finger pointing - neither of which are very healthy or helpful activities. We've never raised our kids to aspire to be just like everyone else, or to judge their success or worth based on worldly standards. Whether or not my kids answer certain questions the same way as other kids their age really isn't the most important thing in the world, and neither is the resulting test score on a piece of paper. So, with a few deep breaths and a little heartfelt prayer, I'm sure that she (and I) will get through this experience just fine.

To Common Core, or Not to Common Core

When I was a kid, the test that we took every year was called the Iowa Test of Basic Skills. Even back then I used to wonder, 'who decided these are the basic skills, anyway?' Now a days, they often use a type of standardized assessment called MAP testing. I know it's an acronym, but the title itself is telling, since it seeks to measure if students are where they're 'supposed' to be, when they're 'supposed' to be. Call it my rebellious nature, but I tend chafe at such things.

Don't get me wrong - I'm not an anarchist, subversive, or rabble rouser (at least, not too much), but I still don't like being told what to do. And, I especially don't like being told who to be. That's what common core feels like to me. I once heard Ed Dickerson, a long-time home school advocate here in Iowa, recount this anecdote:

A woman went into a shoe store and asked for a pair of shoes for her daughter. She wasn't quite sure what size the girl was, so she told the clerk to get what he thought would fit a nine year old girl. The clerk promptly returned with a pair of neon-green shoes that was at least three sizes too big. The woman replied that his choice wasn't going to work, and that he should try again. His reply was simply that there must be something wrong with the girl, since what he got from the back room was clearly labeled, 'nine-year-old girl shoes.' 

See what I mean? I understand the need to set goals and standards. After all, how can we know we're reaching our objectives if we don't know what they are? But, I take exception to goals and standards that are so specific so as to be stifling; so line-upon-line that they are limiting. In short, I don't like being told that it is my nine-year-old girl who is flawed if she doesn't fit the educational "shoes" handed down to her from some distant group of education wonks and bean counters. (Oh, dear - did I really say that!!??)

Allow me to redeem myself, if I may, to any teachers, administrators, or others involved in public education. I am, essentially, also an education wonk and bean counter. Sure, I might hide it behind my jean jumper, A Beka books, and late wake-up time, but I am a licensed teacher. Signed, sealed, and certified. I believe in education, and (for the most part) in the methods and institutions that deliver education to the vast majority of children around the globe. I understand the need for continuity across the curriculum, gradualism from grade to grade, and standardization. I also understand that wonks and bean counters really do know what they're talking about, much of the time. (If you don't believe me, just watch the movie Moneyball.) Therein lies my conundrum.

I didn't choose to home school because I was anti-something. I don't hate public schools. I am not raging against any machine. (Except my vacuum. Right now it's not working, which has gotten me pretty upset. But, that's a different issue.) I know home schoolers who practically froth at the mouth when they speak about public education. I know public school teachers who roll their eyes derisively and genuinely feel sorry for children who are lost in the educational clutches of their ignorant parents each day. Generally the former group is about as far from common core as you can get, and the latter is its biggest cheering section. Seriously, people - why can't we all just get along? Isn't there some sort of balance that can be found?

Someday, I hope someone will create a test that really captures who a kid is. You know - it can tell whether they're ready for long division, or know the difference between a direct and indirect object pronoun. But, it will also point out that they're excellent at diving, or playing the tuba, or being a help around the house. From this marvelous test, education experts (i.e., wonks and bean counters) will be able to create a new set of standards and benchmarks, uniquely crafted for each and every student, in order to capitalize on each gift and talent. Until then, I'm afraid my skepticism of Common Core will remain. Sure, I may refer to it periodically to see if my kids are traveling in the same general direction as most other kids, but mostly I'm going to have to stick to my own common sense, and the things that are at the core of our beliefs and destinies. It may not be as exacting as the Common Core everyone is used to, but it's served us well thus far.

The Voices in My Head.

I am not a crazy lady. I promise. Sure, there are certain times (like when all three of my children had head lice and chickenpox at the same) where I probably looked, acted, and felt a bit unhinged. But, that was a passing and temporary condition. Aside from those outlying experiences, I am a perfectly rational, calm, and logical gal. Totally sane. Not crazy. I do, however, occasionally hear voices in my head.

Just yesterday, as I listened to my oldest daughter tell about the imaginative game she had watched a group of fourth-graders play (having just come back from volunteering with the after-school program at our local YMCA), I heard that old, familiar whisper in the back of my head.  

See... public school kids aren't bad.

Of course public school kids aren't bad. I never said public school kids were bad. I didn't choose to home school because I thought public schools (or public school kids) were bad. I chose to home school because I felt like home schooling provides the opportunity for an even more rich and deep educational experience. 

Sure, it provides the opportunity for that. But, is that the reality in your home schooling? Is the experience you're giving your kids as rich and deep as you want it to be? As you thought it would be? As it should be?

I... I think so. I mean, we don't get around to doing history and science everyday, if that's what you're asking. Sometimes it's all we can do to get through reading, writing, and math. Some days we don't even get to all that. To be honest, I know my kids will certainly never win any spelling or geography bees, like a lot of other home schoolers do, because we haven't emphasized those areas, I guess. Okay, because I haven't emphasized those areas. Or PE. Or music.

Wow. Sounds like there are a lot of areas you don't 'emphasize,' huh?

I guess so. I mean, one of the main reasons we wanted to home school was to build character and practice our faith. And, I think we're doing alright in those areas. Maybe. But at what cost? When I really think about it, the academic areas we don't emphasize are the areas that are harder for me, or which I don't think are terribly important, in the long run. I know I should probably do more, but there are only so many hours in the day.

Of course, maybe you could manage those hours better if you got up earlier, didn't spend so much time on the computer, didn't let your kids watch so much TV. Maybe then your kids would be smarter. 

Maybe they would. I don't know!! You think I don't have the same doubts? You think I don't run myself and the kids ragged trying to stick to a great schedule for a couple of weeks, only to fail, and then feel even worse afterward!?!  I'm only human. I know I'm not perfect. I'm doing the best I can, you know!

I know you are. Maybe that's the problem - you. Maybe you're not really cut out to be their teacher.

But, I really want to ...

Maybe you don't have the knowledge it takes to do this job.

But if I keep...

Maybe you should just put them in school - just for a semester. It would be the safest option, after all.

But...

 __________________________________________________

Sound familiar? I bet so. We, as home schooling parents, are very susceptible to conversations like these. That inner voice has been known by many names - doubt, fear, the world, the Accuser. It comes and tries to mess with my head at least a dozen times a week. (When I first started home schooling it came much more often. These days, I'm better at ignoring both it and the groans of protest my kids sometimes raise when I get out the math books. I'm much happier on both counts.)

Anyway, despite the fact that I often hear voices in my head - a criterion that is used to diagnose mental illness - I know, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that I am, indeed, playing with a full deck. As a home schooling mom, it does not mean that I am crazy that I hear these voices. What would be crazy would be to listen to them.

So, if you'll excuse me, I've got to go exercise my sanity by attempting to teach three different children, of three different ages, three different things, all at the same time. If that's not the definition of perfect mental health, I don't know what is.


 

Everything You've Heard Is True

As someone who's had the privilege of advocating for home schooling families, I've been asked just about every question you can imagine about the inner workings of this mysterious thing called home schooling, and the families who choose to embrace it. Yep. I've discussed curriculum, philosophy, styles, reasons, statistics, and even the dreaded issue of socialization. And, while I always tried to put a positive spin on this growing educational alternative, I have to admit that there is one dirty little secret about home schooling that the naysayers have gotten right. I suppose I might as well share it here, since it's bound to get out anyway. Here goes: the stereotypes about home schooling families are 100%, completely true. Everywhere. Without exception. End of story.

All home schooling moms wear denim, ankle-length jumpers. Since all home schooling families are middle-income and frugal, they sew these jumpers out of remaindered material they buy in bulk. That way there's enough left over to make dresses for the girls in the family as well (all seven of them). The menfolk - that is, every male over the age of ten - are allowed to buy store-bought jeans as long as they aren't too fancy. The younger boys (all six of them) wear homemade pants. You know - because the more remaindered denim you buy, the cheaper the price per yard. The babies (both of them) wear cloth diapers made of the same stuff, too. It's not terribly absorbent, but spending money on any other type is out of the question, since both of the family's 15 passenger vans need tune ups, everyone's violin needs new strings, and the wheat grinder broke last week. Despite all the hardships, everyone in the family (all nineteen of them) somehow keep singing away in beautiful harmony, smiling as they walk down the road like cherubic little stair steps. I hate to admit it, but the long-held stereotype really is true. This is what all home schoolers are like.

Of course, there was that one family I worked with a few years ago. Let's see - Mom and Dad both had PhDs in education. There were a total of nine children in the family. Some were incredibly gifted. Others had profound learning disabilities and delays. Many had a little of both. They all had tremendous fun together. From the various skin tones you could tell that not everyone was biologically related to everyone else. When asked about this, Mom would reply that she couldn't remember who was adopted and who wasn't. It took up too much valuable brain space, you see, that she needed to keep track of voice lesson appointment times, shoe sizes, and who didn't like mayonnaise on their sandwiches. I don't think they owned a wheat grinder, but they were all musical. So, I guess you could say they were still your typical home schooling family after all.

And then there were the people just down the road from me who decided to home school because they were afraid the education and worldview of our local public school was much too conservative, and was going to negatively impact their child's outlook on the world. They said they didn't want their secular humanism tainted by teachers who were privately religious. Too much chance of that sentiment and belief spilling over into what was being taught in the classroom. You know - that mom didn't ever wear jumpers that I recall, but she was frugal. So, I guess you could say that they were still your typical home schooling family after all.

Oh, yes! There was also that family who decide to start home schooling right around the same time that they had a sudden change in a job situation. Something about travel.... That's right - they had given up almost all of their worldly possessions so that all five of them (Mom, Dad, two daughters, and a dog) could live in an RV and ride along with Dad wherever his work took him. I sometimes wondered if they were a tiny bit behind their peers in penmanship, but their geography knowledge was truly remarkable. Of course, there were only two kids in the family, but they did drive a big vehicle. So, I guess you could say that they were still your typical home schooling family after all.

I must admit, I never will forget the family whose son had a chronic heart condition. When he was born, they weren't sure he was even going to survive the first week. Imagine the surprise of their pediatrician when he was still going strong at five years old. I'm sure their extended family wondered a bit at their decision to keep him home for his education. But, it was understandable. After all, his frequent trips to the hospital and all those surgeries would definitely have taken him out of the classroom far more often than would have been acceptable to any teacher other than his mom. By the time he got his final surgery at age 12 - the one that provided a permanent fix to his damaged heart - they were so hooked on home schooling they decided to keep doing it. I can't say that I've ever heard them sing together, let alone harmonize melodically. But, somehow they always managed to keep a smile on their faces no matter what hardships they faced. So, I guess you could say that they were still your typical home schooling family after all.

Well - there you have it. Indisputable evidence that the stereotypes are, sadly, true. Perhaps someday we, as home schoolers, will break the bondage of absolute uniformity and step into the 'real world'. But, that would require owning and watching televisions, occasionally indulging in <gasp> fast food, and allowing our children to play sports and dress in Tshirts and jeans. (NOT the homemade, remaindered denim type, either...) Clearly, we're far too homogeneous of a group for that to ever happen. Still, if I must be lumped in with any bunch, home schoolers are a pretty good one. We somehow manage to find such wonderful self expression, create such unique and self-assured children, and blaze our own distinct trails in life. All that, despite our unchanging sameness. Go figure.

The Joy of the Journey

Confession time - my kids will never be the perfect 'nth' graders. My Kindergartener doesn't take naps. My third grader doesn't know the rules of kickball. My seventh grader has never yet been able to find her locker. (Sure, she doesn't have one, but still...) My husband and I decided long ago that we weren't trying to make the best 6, 8, or 12 year olds in the world. Instead, we are trying to prepare our individual children to be the best adults they can be; to help them become the people that God wants them to be. In short, we don't think of it as raising kids. We think of it as raising our kids to be adults. The difference may seem minor, but we believe it's important.

Imagine it this way: there are several roads that lead to the same destination - adulthood. In this analogy, the modern incarnation of public education in America would be represented by a caravan of RVs. The caravans themselves could represent school districts, school buildings, or even individual class groups. Regardless of which grouping you choose to imagine, the result would be pretty much identical - teachers and administrators in the lead, with individual family RVs filling in behind. Everyone would be on the same route, at the same pace, stopping at the same periodic checkpoints, on roads chosen long ago and maintained by educational professionals, legislators, and state officials.

Now, I'm not dogging on public schools here. Notice, my analogy still provides an efficient, effective, pleasant trip for those involved. Families are included. They're part of the picture, and along for the ride. You could even imagine the soup suppers and baseball games that really exist in strong school districts and communities as the campfire sing-a-longs and marshmallow roasts in my example. Everyone is in it together. Those in the lead have experience with the trip. The checkpoints give regular opportunities to ensure that all the equipment and passengers are in good shape, and that no one got accidentally left behind at the last rest stop The path is well established, and proven.. All in all, it's a good, safe trip, and I don't think anyone should judge those who choose to take this route. It's not, however, the experience that we wanted for and with our kids.

For home schoolers, the GPS route isn't what we're looking for. Call it a flaw in our nature, but we often purposefully choose the harder options in life precisely because they're harder, and we see intrinsic value in that. (We're a quirky bunch - some of us more than others.) Some home schoolers take the state highways that parallel the interstates, and often use the checkpoints provided. They may choose to join the caravan for a portion of each day, some part of each year, or even for years at a time. Their mode of transport varies a bit from the RVs, but their scenery, pace and style are very similar to the public school folks.

Others stick to blacktops off the beaten path, enjoying the quietness of the small towns, the slower pace, and the suburban and rural scenery along the way. They might occasionally glimpse the caravan, lumbering by, but choose to stick to their own routes. However, don't worry. They're not alone or isolated. There are approximately two million home schoolers in the United States. The majority of them are the blacktop travelers. Their trips are far from lonely. You'd be surprised how many such families you'd find hanging out together in diners and museums across the country - both literally, and figuratively. These families find opportunities to be with others, but also savor their time together just as individual family units. These are the road trippers who sing in their mini vans, pack coolers filled with snacks, and are eager to take day trips and make frequent stops along the way.

Then there are the heartiest and most hard-core of all home schoolers. They are the dirt roaders, the backpackers, the cabin-dwellers. They work to make learning a rugged adventure - blazing their own trails, marching up mountainsides, listening to the sounds of nature through their dew-covered tents. Their habits, practices, and philosophies couldn't be more different from the caravans of well-starched families in their shiny RVs. But (and here's the important part) they're going to end up at the same place as everyone else. And, probably, around the same time, too, give or take a year. In fact, they (like the other wanderers and adventure seekers, be they the back roads or back woods types) will probably get their sooner than their streamlined counterparts.

So, if we all end up in the same place, at about the same time anyway, why choose a different path? Why swim upstream? Why face the endless questions that come with doing things differently than the norm? I'll tell you why - because the trip itself matters.

It matters because it means more time to get to know my children, and to have them get to know me.

It matters because traveling in a pack often leads to pack mentality, which is great for wild animals, but not so great for human beings.

It matters because there is a whole lot of world out there beyond the interstates, and seeing as much of it as possible is important.

It matters because I want my children to be adventurous and free-spirited in their own lives, but can never expect them to do so if I don't model it.

It matters because I want my children to determine their own checkpoints in life to judge whether or not they're on the right path, and not rely on the criteria that others determine for them.

It matters, most of all, because the joy of the journey is sometimes the most important part of the whole trip - even more so than the destination itself.

So, we'll keep exploring together; checking out dusty dives and side-road sights. Occasionally our path will intersect the main roads, and I will see the RVs filled with happy, perfect 'nth' graders who know how to take naps, play kickball, and find their lockers. I'm happy for them, and wish them well. But, I'm awfully glad that we chose to take the road less traveled, and I'm planning on thoroughly enjoying each and every mile of the trip.